Beauty
by The Sith Virtuoso
Summary: The stage is set and Khada Jhin is coming home ready for the performance of a lifetime. Rated M for sexual content, extreme violence and graphic scenery among others. Set in the same continuity as "The Angel in the Night" and "Opening Night". All characters are property of Riot Games. I own only the story and the cover image. Please comment and enjoy!
1. Prologue

**Author's Note: Please enjoy and do comment ^^ I decided to finish this whole work first before posting any part of it...it just felt _perfect_ that way.**

addendum: I've changed/will be changing certain minor details all across the story to better fit with the lore nowadays, the events from my other Jhin story here (The Angel in the Night) and an upcoming piece (stay tuned) set in the same continuity.

 **\- SV**

* * *

 **BEAUTY**

 _In carnage, I bloom...like a flower in the dawn_

* * *

 **Prologue**

The League of Legends was a place of all sorts, it is said.

Wonders and Champions hailing from far and wide; across and even _beyond_ Runeterra.

Some joined freely, some for duty, and some because they had no other choice.

He thought of himself as a curious mix of all three.

He joined freely—for he lived for the applause that his _performances_ were guaranteed to bring.

He joined because of duty—for it was his task alone, to set the _perfect_ stage.

He joined as he had no choice—for this was his love; his art was a _compulsion_ and he can never stop.

Let the fools who thought him to be their lackey think that he joined because they commanded him to.

 _Such arrogance..._

He supposed he should be thankful in some part.

For there in the League he was at last free to show his talents—his art—for all Runeterra to behold!

Every kill he made was applause—and indeed, he _lived_ for the cheers his audience would give.

It was glorious, even though he knew that none of his erstwhile opponents would stay dead.

He enjoyed it nonetheless, and saw it as an opportunity to perfect his craft.

He also knew...more than any other that all great things must come to an end.

He had planned such from the very first day he had stepped foot in the Fields of Justice.

Truly, he enjoyed his time in the League, but time was precisely what was running out.

His masterpiece cannot wait forever.

 _Perfection_ cannot wait forever.

He had no intention of leaving behind a legacy of great works without a crown jewel at its peak.

Four more days left to fulfil his duties as an Ionian champion, four more days of beautiful music that only _Whisper_ could compose.

A four month retreat was arranged by the League of Legends' governing body to allow every champion a chance to reconnect with their roots, settle unfinished businesses, or simply let their hair down for once.

He certainly looked forward to it; though relaxation was far from his mind.

 _Four months_ , he reflected. If destiny truly existed, then certainly _this_ was going to be his moment.

The _pièce de résistance_ of his very existence.

 _There would be time for all this_ , he told himself, as the blue light that signified the summons enveloped him.

Loading Whisper with four expertly crafted bullets and setting her with four clicks to her barrel, he smiled from beneath his ivory mask.

It was music to his ears and he cast his long laid out plans to the back of his mind.

With a smile on his face and a song in his heart, Jhin the Virtuoso strode proudly into battle.

* * *

 _Beautiful_...

He was sipping strong Ionian tea in his "cabin" aboard the _Harbinger_ , gazing out of its viewport to behold the crimson sunset reminiscing his string of victories in the last few days.

He was going home at last to Ionia along with his fellow Ionian champions.

He was alone in his quarters and though he had all worldly comforts at his beck and call, there was only one real word for it.

A prison.

His weapons had been taken from him upon boarding and he had literally been locked in his quarters for the whole trip.

Not that he had much choice in the matter.

He was still a criminal in his countrymen's eyes.

A criminal.

A murderer.

A madman.

 _They call me mad? All artists are mad..._

He was an _artist_.

His work was _pure_.

 _How do they not see this?_

But he supposed it was fate.

 _I am a revolutionary._

Artists were rarely ever appreciated.

Much less someone like him.

 _My genius will be understood—eventually._

The red-gold rays of the setting sun reminded him of the title his people had given him when he was still an unsung hero.

 _The Golden Demon_.

They had meant it as defamation. He took the insult and treated it like a title fit for royalty.

He may be a demon, but he was golden.

Pure.

Precious.

 _Perfect_.

He had since given himself a _new_ title.

 _I am the Virtuoso._

It was a title he had proven in the Fields of Justice. His only desire was to glorify it, over and over again, and always, _always_ in a more grandiose fashion.

 _What beauty there is in terror! What glory there is in death!_

In those olden times he had used blades. Simple, effective and capable of producing beauty to be sure...but his work then was _passé_ when compared to what pieces he had made ever since receiving Whisper.

His work in the League was proof enough.

It did not matter who they were.

He made them _beautiful_. He made them _perfect_.

He found it darkly amusing knowing that his countrymen shunned him while all across Runeterra his performances found applause.

He also knew that somewhere in that same ship his fellow Ionian _champions_ were also present, his old captors among them.

He knew that it was entirely possible that they were discussing him at this moment.

Judging him.

 _Oh what joy it would be...to make you all sing, and dance, and die..._ he dreamily thought.

But the Virtuoso was a patient man.

He would return to Ionia in chains; a pariah in his people's eyes, cast out in shame when in truth he was the oriflamme of the grandest of arts.

The sun finally set under the horizon and he reflected that in its place the moon and the stars would rise.

 _As will I._

Soon the glowing lights of his idyllic island home came into view and Jhin smiled.


	2. Act I - Chapter 1

**Act I - Chapter 1**

They were well into their fourth cask of blossom wine when the self-proclaimed Master of Shadows finally arrived in their cabin.

"I thought ninjas were always ahead of time," taunted Yasuo.

Zed thought none of the Unforgiven's remark and instead turned to his one-time-brother.

"I thought you had sworn off drinking," Zed taunted.

Shen replied by narrowing his eyes and draining his goblet in one angry swig.

"As my...brother is here, I believe we can finally start discussing the matter at hand," Shen said as Zed took the seat directly across him.

"I still say we kill him. _Now,_ " Zed growled with finality.

Karma, Duchess of Ionia, looked at the ninja with disapproval, "These are not the Fields of Justice. Killing him now solves nothing. _Killing him at all solves nothing_."

Her fellow regent, the former Celestial Soraka nodded in silent agreement.

Zed laughed mirthlessly, "Easy for you to say, Duchess. You wouldn't lay a finger on anyone if you knew they had no chance of coming back."

The Master of Shadows took a long swig from his goblet, "'Tis no surprise to me either that you wouldn't allow your... _pet_...to be put down like the mad dog he is."

A flush of color animated the Duchess' tanned cheeks.

"He has nothing to do with _us_. A mad dog you say?" Irelia angrily stated, "It takes one to know one, Zed."

"You dare—" Zed rose.

In response, Irelia, Yasuo, and the other champions of Ionia present stood up ready for a fight.

They had no weapons to be sure, but each and every one of them was capable of holding their own with their bare hands.

 _"Enough!_ " Shen snapped, slamming his fist onto the table "we have been discussing this matter for days and getting nowhere. _This is not the time for quarrel!_ Hold your tongue, Zed. Your petty insults can wait."

Zed looked at the Eye of the Twilight with murder in his eyes, but allowed himself to sit down.

After Shen sensed that a modicum of calm had been restored, he motioned for Yi, one of the two last masters of Wuju, for his opinion.

The distinguished swordsman turned out to be in favor with the Master of Shadows.

"He is too dangerous. You all know what he is capable of. I have personally seen his _art_ before he had ever gotten that weapon of his," the Wuju master morosely said, "and so have most of you. I do not condemn men on principle, but for the greater good I am willing to swallow my pride and spill blood this one last time."

"Aye!" thumped his old apprentice, Wukong.

The Starchild shook her horned head, "I do not agree. He may be a monster, but he does not deserve death. No one does. I motion for his lifelong imprisonment, as the Duchess Karma had originally proposed in the past days."

In agreement with Soraka were Irelia, Karma, celebrated musician Sona, and the members of the Kinkou, Kennen and Akali.

"The Blossom Festival nears as well. Four months to the day. We must not shed blood lest we insult the gods," The Duchess piped.

"What say you, Yasuo? You have yet to voice any of your views in the days past," Shen asked.

Yasuo took a long swig, "I would question _why_ he was even allowed those weapons of his in the first place, given his... _talents_ ," throwing a suspicious look at the three ladies who served in the ruling body of Ionia, "But that's a pit of snakes I have no interest of diving into. Politics and power plays leave a bad taste in my mouth and right now we have the beast in chains. If the time comes however, I will act."

The blind monk Lee Sin scratched his chin, "The time _will_ come. I believe that much. But there is no sense in death. This I know."

Zed harrumphed in disgust as he arose from his seat, "I can see that I am surrounded by fools. I should have heeded Syndra's advice and never went to hear any of this."

The Dark Sovereign had turned down Shen's invitation, deeming the Golden Demon's fate as something far below her concerns.

This time it was Shen who stood up from his seat, "You swore an oath, Zed. An oath to my father, whom you killed. Lord Kusho was as much a father to _you_ as he was to me."

The Eye of the Twilight locked his furious gaze on his one-time-brother's.

"I would have killed _you_ there and then had I chosen not to honor his memory. I would kill the Golden Demon myself if it did not defy the balance." Shen motioned, though it was obvious that the decision left a vile taste in his mouth.

At that, Zed knew that the matter was lost.

"I favour in letting him live...as a prisoner for life," Shen said with finality.

"Heh. I spit at your balance. Your father was a weak man as you are, Shen. I am the only one aside from this seven eyed imbecile and his monkey here who has sense," Zed mocked, looking at all those in the room with equally ill-disguised contempt, "So be it, then. Let that thing live in the name of your so-called _balance_. Do not worry for I am no oathbreaker... _when_ the time comes, I _will_ act. I _will_ kill Khada Jhin as I should have all those years ago."

"On that day though you all had best stand aside, or that monster will have some company on his way to hell."

The Master of Shadows then exited the room, slamming the door behind him.

* * *

He heard the applause, but he knew that none of it was for him.

He was the last to exit the _Harbinger_ , though he had little choice in the matter just like every other aspect of the trip.

Sure enough, when _he_ was paraded through the massive crowd that had gathered in the harbour, he received silence.

He supposed it was his reputation in his homeland...or the fact that he was bound head-to-toe in chains, being carted without dignity in a trolley by a small squad of nameless guards.

He was infinitely grateful however when they decided not to take his mask.

The Virtuoso hated the face he had been born with. Though its plainness had made blending in with crowds an easy task, it was a cause of shame for him.

He considered the smiling ivory visage which he had made with his own hands his _true_ face.

It was the face of an artist.

It was the face that Ionia...no, that Runeterra shall forever remember.

It certainly made him immediately recognizable as he was carted through the crowds. Perhaps it was for that reason alone they had let him keep it.

He saw condemnation in the eyes of his countrymen, yet they also seemed to be in a state of terrified awe as the legendary Golden Demon was paraded through them.

 _Like some majestic beast._

But a beast in chains.

 _Such bad taste..._

But under his mask he was smiling.

He would show this multitude of ignorant fools the true scope of his talents and ambitions.

 _My puppets, how you shall dance...all in good time._

He also chuckled to himself realizing how fitting was the name of the ship that had brought them back to their homeland.

 _A_ Harbinger _indeed._

As he passed by his fellow champions, Jhin noted how varied their emotions were.

Duchess Karma, the Starchild, their lackey Irelia and his fellow artist Sona wore haughty expressions on their faces even as he gave them a sanctimonious little nod.

The Unforgiven, the Blind Monk and the two masters of Wuju could have been hewn from stone.

He noted the curious absence of the Dark Sovereign, The Shadow Reaper and the Nine-Tailed Fox.

But they mattered little.

The last two he passed though were of special interest to him.

 _Ah...finally._

Shen was unreadable as always.

 _You need to lighten up_ , Jhin thought mockingly at his one-time-captor.

Zed was another matter entirely.

 _Pathetic..._

The Master of Shadows wore a mask to be sure, but he could see the venom in his eyes and could practically hear the ninja's furious breathing.

He knew that given the chance, Zed would gleefully and painfully kill him.

 _He is welcome to try,_ Jhin thought as the smile grew beneath his mask.

 _You both tried to censor me...art can never be suppressed!_

The plans for the coming days were something none of them would ever suspect.

Even this shoddy display of him was nothing more than a prelude for the main act of his masterpiece.

 _All the world's a stage, and all the men and women merely players,_ the Virtuoso thought fondly.

His guards lifted him off the trolley and prepared the carriage that would take him back to his prison in Tuula.

 _We have our exits and our entrances._

He gave one last look at the crowd and his fellow champions before the guards closed the door.

 _And every one of us, in time, will play their parts_


	3. Act I - Chapter 2

**Act I - Chapter 2**

The Ionian sun shone brightly that day in the gardens of the Placidium, in direct contrast to Irelia who was about as sunny as a winter storm.

"I'm beginning to have second thoughts about our decision, Duchess," she remarked as she walked alongside the Enlightened One, "a month has passed and the Golden Demon has done nothing in his imprisonment."

Karma raised an eyebrow as she caught a cherry blossom in her hand. It was one of the first to bloom this season, and there will be more in the months ahead.

"I would have believed that a comforting thought, Irelia," the Duchess remarked, "would you rather have Khada Jhin out 'performing'?"

The Blade Dancer blanched, sickened by the thought.

"Of course not. I simply find it too good to be true that he's being quiet after everything! After the _League!_ I would have thought that his ego alone would not allow himself to be confined. If anything, his compulsion should have grown during his time there!"

Karma smiled and laid a hand on her friend's shoulder. Even back then, Irelia was staunchly against the self-proclaimed Virtuoso's inclusion among the League champions of Ionia.

"Peace my young friend. I do not take the matter of Khada Jhin lightly, I assure you."

"But the rumors, my lady..."

"That I am one of the cabal that allowed the Golden Demon to be set loose in the first place?"

Irelia admitted in shame, "Yes, my lady..."

"Look at me," Karma asked blankly.

Irelia followed and looked at the Duchess of Ionia in the face.

"Do you see someone who would allow that creature to kill for personal gain?"

"No, Duchess." Irelia replied in truth.

Karma smiled again at the young woman. How she admired her honest valor.

"You have the truth of it, Irelia," Karma said, "I am not part of that loathsome group, but I will not deny that someone allowed his release."

"Duchess?"

"Ghosts and shadows move among us, my dear," Karma whispered as she let the cherry blossom drift away in the wind, "in that light, sometimes we must keep the truth from those whom we trust."

"What are you telling me, Duchess?"

Karma looked at Irelia, this time with a serious note in her eyes.

"I am telling you now that I do not know, Irelia. I do not know all that transpires. I never did. Try as I might with all the power I have at my hands. I do not know who in our Ruling Council allowed Khada Jhin to run amok after Lord Kusho defeated him. I could not demand for his head, for that would undermine the balance...I am no Lord Kusho, whose skill and counsel I would have greatly appreciated. My only choice was to propose that the Golden Demon be allowed a position in the one place he could not truly kill."

"It was _you?_ "

"I know enough about killers, young one. More than you do," the Duchess replied sadly, "there are those who want naught but to see the rivers run red and the very earth burn. We cannot hope to change them, but there are ways to control them."

She saw in her mind's eye the grotesque panorama that the Golden Demon had created one fateful night many years ago—a depraved ode to _her_ for allowing him to pursue his heart's desire as a Champion of the League.

"Ionia was in shambles after our conflicts with Noxus and our countrymen were being gruesomely slaughtered by a perverse lunatic. Worse, this was a madman who was somehow released from one of our mightiest prisons and _suddenly_ had access to some of our nation's deadliest weapons. How could the Ionian people trust us then? We could not even trust ourselves...The air was rife with suspicion and whispers of rebellion were all but certain."

Karma shook her head in woe.

"You are a superb warrior, Irelia, but you are no politician. I do not expect you to understand. _I had to act_. If I failed, it would mean civil war and the deaths of countless millions more in addition to the struggle of capturing a particularly elusive mass murderer. At first I tried to investigate who was pulling the strings that led to Khada Jhin's freedom, but my leads were all cold. I was running in circles. Not even Shen or Soraka could divine who or what was behind all this."

The Duchess allowed herself to sit down on a bench, seemingly exhausted.

The Blade Dancer bowed in apology, "Forgive me, O Enlightened One. For my insolence..."

Karma smiled again, "Yours is not insolence, child. Ionia would be better off with souls as pure as yours. Come, sit with me."

The Duchess shot a careful glance around her, before whispering to her companion who had just made herself comfortable on the same bench.

"There are ears and eyes everywhere, child. Yes, even here in the Placidium. All I have are suspicions...what I will tell you now is something only two others know. These are words that must never leave this place."

The Duchess leaned closer to the young warrior.

"Not until the right time."

* * *

Jhin hummed to himself as he painted.

 _One. Two. Three. Four._

 _One. Two. Three. Four._

Let it not be said that he was a man whose only talent was murder.

 _There are other arts...and my true calling can wait_ _a while longer_.

Soon enough, the regular brushstrokes in series of four produced a beautiful representation of the cherry trees outside his cell.

 _Soon they will bloom and soon shall I._

His cell was littered with countless pieces of art—paintings, sculptures, crafts, poetry and music. Only his meticulously crafted bullets, grenades and traps were denied access to him, taken immediately by his wardens upon creation.

It was all he could do without losing himself to madness in his incarceration.

 _One. Two. Three. Four._

He _needed_ to express himself through art and he thanked every god he knew of that Ionia was remarkably humane when it came to its prisons.

 _One. Two. Three. Four._

A complete month had passed and even his caretaker-wardens, the monks of Tuula, seemed to relax around him.

It wasn't surprising if he had to be honest.

After all, he had proven himself a worthy student to them even during the time of his first capture, hungry for more knowledge.

It was all the same now, and he relished again in learning various disciplines. It irritated him though that even after all those years, they still attempted to stamp out his fascination with death.

They might as well have taken his beating heart from his chest and been done with it.

It was a part of who he was and he revelled in that simple reality.

It was what made him the artist he was. The _genius_ he was destined to be.

 _What fools...what fools that they do not see!_

But he played his part to perfection as only the greatest of actors could.

 _Soon._

* * *

One night, exactly two months after his return, he awoke to the sound of his cell's door being unlocked.

He smiled knowing that long-laid plans and a particularly risky wager were finally being set in motion.

 _And just in time...any longer and I would have gone raving mad._

Jhin got up from his bed and stretched the kinks from his muscles.

He was becoming giddy for the show was about to begin.

 _It is going to be a glorious night._


	4. Act I - Chapter 3

**Act I - Chapter 3**

The Eye of the Twilight was a patient man, both for duty and in truth.

He was out meditating in the gardens of the new secret Kinkou monastery as he had been all day—the old one was plagued by Zed and his Order of the Shadow.

It was a brilliant full moon that night and Shen was deep in contemplation when at last his two best apprentices, Akali and Kennen, arrived with the others.

He stood up and greeted those present with a bow. Among their number was Ahri, the Nine-Tailed Fox, who had arrived a month prior after entertaining a friendly visit per the request of the Demacian champions. She had been filled in the details of the past meetings by her good friend and lover, Wukong.

Missing from their number was Zed.

The Master of Shadows had refused, sending back the severed head of the apprentice whom Shen had tasked to deliver his clandestine invitation.

"A pleasant evening to you all," the Master of the Kinkou said.

Shen led them to the nearby solar.

"Please, sit. We have much to discuss."

The other Ionian champions made themselves comfortable as novice members of the Kinkou filled their cups with tea; a classic Ionian ritual of etiquette.

It was also a sacred, unspoken vow—to partake drink and food from another's roof was to evoke the gods' protection—no harm will come to them from the Kinkou at the risk of angering the gods.

Shen hoped that the knowledge that they were safe from harm was enough to have everyone's minds calmed and ready. He then sent the novices away once the tea ceremony was complete.

"Duchess Karma," Shen remarked, "please take the lead."

The Enlightened One hesitated, "Lord Shen, these are not words meant for anyone aside from we in this room to know."

The Eye of the Twilight allowed himself a small but reassuring smile, "Fear not, Duchess. I have given my other apprentices strict orders. They will make no attempt to listen unless I allow it. It so happens that I have expressly forbidden such. All of them are now on guard tonight, including those who had just served us."

Although Karma was not entirely convinced, she felt she could trust Shen. He had proven himself a worthy ally after all in the past and never once had he nor the Kinkou gave any reason for her to doubt.

It would not make the truth any easier to admit however.

"Gratitude, Lord Shen," she exhaled, "I can find no words to soften the truth, my friends. The Golden Demon is loose."

The somber expressions of the Ionian champions said that they understood what that meant.

Sona played a short, furious passage.

The Nine-Tailed Fox who had learned how to interpret the voiceless musician, spoke on her behalf.

"Sona is asking why nobody else seems to know?"

The Starchild replied, "Only the Kinkou, and we in the Council know."

A brief silence ensued, and Shen saw looks of suspicion in the faces of both Wuju masters and the Unforgiven's.

"When did the monster escape?" inquired Yasuo with a snap in his voice, "More importantly, how?"

"Four days hence," replied Shen.

The Unforgiven bit back the bile in his voice as he looked from Shen to Karma, "Four days. Four days our people have been in grave danger and they know nothing. Why?"

"Yasuo, I understand what you mean," soothed Soraka, "it was a difficult decision –"

"It is no decision at all!" Yasuo snapped back, "You above all should know this, Starchild. You swore to protect all life. I have sworn to make sure no one else dies on my watch. The people _must know!_ "

"So you would rather incite mass panic, Yasuo?" said Irelia blithely, "I find his escape no more pleasant than any of you, but our people are still recovering. We have yet to totally heal from the ravages of Noxus and the last thing we need is a blade driven to the heart of our collective spirit."

"How quaint," Yasuo taunted at Irelia, Soraka, Karma, and the three members of the Kinkou present, "I am an outcast and a marked man. I have no longer a voice in Ionia, but _you_ do. Instead of using that privilege, you would rather allow that beast to announce himself in the only way he knows how... None of you answered my other question either."

Irelia narrowed her eyes and prepared a retort, but was stopped with a small gesture from the Duchess.

The Enlightened One's green eyes locked with the Unforgiven's ebony ones.

"Khada Jhin did not escape. He was set free."

* * *

The silence that followed was deafening.

It was Master Yi who broke it with calm finality, "Explain."

Akali spoke with an uncharacteristically somber tone, "Ever since the Golden Demon was locked away two moons past, we had taken it upon ourselves to monitor his prison as unseen guards. Each day since, the Kinkou would send out a small cadre of scouts who would keep watch on the monastery and see if anything was afoot."

"It was strange enough that for two months Khada Jhin seemed to be at ease in captivity, although he was always frantically working on some artwork. He even produced a full scale-replica of _himself_ at one point if the reports are to be believed. He gave no sign that he had any plans, and as far as we could tell the monks of Tuula were dedicated to their vigil."

"Come dawn four days ago, I led the scouting party to the Tuula monastery and immediately noticed something wrong. It was _too_ quiet. The Tuula monks would always sing ceremonial hymns in the dawn and I swear that one could have heard a dewdrop fall in that silence."

"I immediately requested for aid right before we entered the monastery. We did not even have to open the gates since they were unlocked and unguarded."

"By the time Kennen and Lord Shen had come to our aid my party had seen enough," Akali went on, her face turning pale in the recollection of the sea of blood and gore that was the inside of the monastery.

Akali had to bite back the bile after seeing the grotesque diorama of flesh in her mind's eye, "The inner courtyard was _bathed_ in scarlet...as for the monks themselves..."

"I thought I've seen death after marching into countless battles. But this..."

Akali was breathing deeply at the point, clearly sickened by the memory. Kennen put a small hand on her shoulder as he took over.

"We took care going in. We couldn't know for sure if the demon was still inside," said the little ninja, his voice trembling slightly as he described the red horrors they found the deeper they had pressed inside the temple.

The Master of the Kinkou then decided to cut in, "After some time, it became clear that Khada Jhin had left. We found his prison cell in one of the great towers of the Tuula monastery and indeed, there was nothing to suggest that he had forced his way out. The door was unlocked from the outside by someone or something."

"Were there any survivors?" asked the Nine-Tailed Fox.

"Only one," said Kennen who attempted and found it difficult to describe how they found the dying monk literally sewn as the centrepiece of a massive tapestry of flayed skins.

"I gave him mercy," the Heart of the Tempest said quietly, referring to his putting the monk out of his misery, "but before that I had asked him who was responsible and all he could say was ' the demon' and 'the dark shadow'."

"The 'dark shadow'?" remarked Wukong, "is it possible that—"

"That Zed or a member of his Order might have helped the Golden Demon escape?" said Shen, "I would like to believe so, but I know Zed. He despises the Golden Demon as much as we do and you have seen how stubborn and defiant the man is. Even if he seems to fit the description perfectly, Zed will not change his mind on this matter, and any underlings of his risk certain death in attempting to do so."

Shen exhaled.

"That same day, I sent word to Duchess Karma and Regent Soraka. The entire Ruling Council had convened here with us two days ago and we had decided that silence was the best course of action. Surely you would all understand?" said Shen as he looked to the other champions.

The room then erupted into a vigorous frenzy of half-questions and accusations. Only Lee Sin and Sona had stood silent in the background. In the end, Sona had needed to play a short but beautiful piece on her etwahl to restore calm.

"Peace, friends," calmly said the Blind Monk, "this is a dire time to be sure, but we will accomplish nothing should we turn on each other right here and now. Clearly, there is more to this than the bickering we had heard. Starchild, Duchess, more to say have you?"

Soraka nodded in agreement, "In the days hence, in addition to silence," throwing a stern look at Yasuo, "we had requested that the Kinkou continue their vigil at Tuula and to scout the surrounding region. So far, no new developments have arisen but neither has the Golden Demon been sighted. We have also investigated the Ruling Council anew and at last found who was behind Khada Jhin's release during the first time."

"Who?" asked Wukong, clearly ready to take action.

"Lord Yaami of Zhyun," before the monkey Wuju master could reply, she added, "Even before, he was on our sights as a potential accomplice, but there was never any good evidence linking him to Khada Jhin."

Soraka sighed.

"But the mad dog had bitten the hand that fed him. Irelia had found Lord Yaami murdered yesterday morning with the rest of his estate. The injuries and the way in which the bodies were...displayed was as good as Khada Jhin's signature in ink. We also discovered that the beast had made off with a considerable amount of Lord Yaami's fortune. We also found letters that implied their collusion for the longest time. We attempted to follow his trail, but it led to a dead end as before."

Master Yi meditated, "Hm. Lord Yaami. I knew him. He never seemed the kind though who would entertain the whims of such a monster. Yaami was a vain man, a craven moreso. But he had never did have the stomach for murder and still had enough principle not to sink to that level. Something tells me this is the true reason why you have decided for secrecy."

Karma let out a sigh of relief, for at last the point was cleared, "Yes, Master Yi. The plot is deeper than we could have ever imagined. All evidence suggested that Lord Yaami was just an intermediary, and a reluctant one at that. The true mastermind yet eludes us."

Realization then came over the room, and with it a newfound sense of unity.

"Alright," the Unforgiven said while turning to the rest, "what must we do?"


	5. Act I - Chapter 4

**Act I - Chapter 4**

Jhin had always thought of Ionia as the most beautiful place in creation, but only from his view then did he realize just how right he was.

From the Celestial Fortress, then situated atop a great peak, he beheld the majestic mountains, the lush forests, the pristine beaches and the cities of exquisite craftsmanship.

 _How lovely..._

It was beautiful enough to bring a tear in his eye.

"Having fun?" a female voice teased from behind him.

The Virtuoso looked around and locked gazes with the dark, sultry form of Syndra.

He licked his lips from underneath his intricately carved mask.

 _How lovely indeed._

As far as females went, the Dark Sovereign was certainly to his liking.

Physically, she cut the most beautiful figure.

A lean, yet lusciously curvaceous body, that even when clothed left little to the imagination.

 _She certainly has a good taste for fashion..._ he mused...

Radiant, silver-blonde hair which swept up to the small of her back.

A flawless face capable of conveying intimacy one second and cruelty on the next.

The fact that she was an all-powerful sorceress inclined to chaos was something of a bonus.

But best of all, try as she might to hide it, she certainly did fancy him despite his being a decade older.

He allowed himself a gracious bow, "I was just marvelling at what Ionia looks like from up here."

Syndra snorted, "Our homeland is beautiful, to be sure...but I've seen better."

"Mm. Allow me this small pleasure then, darling. Not all of us have this kind of opportunity."

The Dark Sovereign chuckled, clearly mollified, "I suppose you have a point, Jhin."

He had allowed her to address him by his given name; perhaps one of the few to be allowed that privilege.

She had proven herself a most valuable ally after all.

 _Bravo, love...bravo._

He wanted to give her a standing ovation right there and then, but that would not do.

"Have the shipments found their way 'home'?" she asked as she beckoned the masked man to come closer.

"Yes, Lady Syndra. A little coin does go far, yes. I must thank you for your influence though. It had proved most useful at times. Everything is...going as _we_ had planned" he smiled, brandishing Whisper elegantly.

She smiled, clearly pleased, "And Lord Yaami?"

"Our... _friend_ has been taken care of, my lady."

He then took her slender hand in his and kissed it after slightly lifting his mask.

She shuddered in pleasure and her breath caught in her throat as he did so. It was not something that escaped his notice.

 _My dear Syndra...so predictable..._

But he gave no hint that he knew.

He never did.

No one else knew of their clandestine relationship, which served Jhin's goals well.

He remembered how she had first approached him on the Fields of Justice, in what she meant as a show of professional admiration of his work.

He on the other hand, had long known her by reputation back in Ionia.

He had to admit, hers was a power of a sort that he found most tempting.

But the moment they met, he knew.

His years as a stagehand and actor had all but made reading people second nature to him.

Even those who attempted & succeeded in throwing a convincing facade.

His work was definitely not the _only_ thing she was interested in.

Still, their discussions were supposedly strictly professional at first. The League made such meetings possible without fear of being overheard by the other champions, although certainly they were wary.

Endless power plays and planned coups...

Superfluous details he found too much to stomach if he had to be honest...

Yes, he had found such discussions droll, but he played the part of an eager ally perfectly as only a master actor could.

Eventually he had made his own suggestions, always with a gesture or word of compliment to the sorceress...deftly weaving _his own_ compositions into her monotonous prose.

Soon enough, Syndra thought that he had come fully under her sway, when the truth was quite the opposite.

"Their" plan had been all but usurped by the artist, and it was _she_ who danced whenever he would pull the strings.

"Jhin...are you well?" Syndra asked.

"Ah...forgive me, my lady," he replied after snapping out of his reverie, "I was...dreaming of the day our plans take flight. Forgive this artist's musings...at times I become... _enraptured_...as I am with you."

The dark woman smiled teasingly, "Truly?"

The Virtuoso then took her suddenly in his arms, eliciting a small cry of surprise from the Dark Sovereign.

"Truly...always, and forever, darling."

This time it was she who pulled him into a kiss that locked her lips onto those of his mask.

In that long kiss, he heard and felt the staccato thrum of her heart.

The glowing warmth of her skin.

Her harsh, escalating breaths.

Her hands grasping wanton his back.

He could _taste_ her desire.

"...my bedchamber..." the Dark Sovereign breathlessly said.

He decided that it was time.

 _That doesn't mean I can't enjoy this a little longer..._ he thought slyly as she hurriedly led him by the hand into her expansive quarters.

* * *

Syndra knew she was beautiful by any standard.

She was also confident in being more powerful than any other being on Runeterra. She knew that she only grew stronger with each passing day.

How she loved every aspect of it, save for one.

Her own charms made her intimidating to most men, and she had all the appetites of a powerful woman.

Sure, she could command any man to lay with her, but laying with frightened men gave her little pleasure.

She had thought of such experiences as a sheep laying with a wolf.

Totally absurd.

And the men who had had the strength to truly please her while making love could be counted in one hand.

And then there was Khada Jhin.

It was a lifetime ago when she had heard that the legendary Golden Demon of Ionia was to be part of the Ionian stable of champions within the League of Legends.

She hadn't thought much of him, despite his bizarre, eccentric appearance and manner.

And then came his first battle—lo, and behold, Syndra was part of the opposing team.

Her team had lost that day—exactly how, she could not recall anymore.

But she did recall the Virtuoso.

Syndra had never witnessed anyone move and fight with such malignant grace.

She herself had fallen to that smiling ivory mask during that battle.

She had seen many and more that made battle look easy.

But he made it look both easy _and_ beautiful.

It was a power unlike any she had witnessed, and truly, he led his team to a resounding victory by the trigger of his smoking gun.

It was something that both impressed and awoke deep seated longings in her and not only because it had been some time since Zed had pleased her.

She had thought herself in control later that evening when she had approached him. She knew then he would prove a powerful ally in her future plans.

But when they met in the flesh, his manner, his fearlessness, and his way with words had made her heart flutter as no man had ever done.

Syndra at first chided herself for acting like some common hormone-filled teenager, but the more they met, the more she became enamored of the masked artist.

Even moreso than her erstwhile lover and partner, Zed.

Then came that one night when Jhin himself had professed his own interest in her...

Oh what _beautiful_ music they made that night.

She had never felt so powerless—how he had made her heart, mind, body and soul sing in rapturous ecstasy!

Zed too had been a superb lover, but his ministrations were _passionless_.

Jhin on the other hand made her feel whole.

He was _her_ dark angel who brought her to realms of passion unheard of.

 _A Virtuoso indeed._

* * *

If Syndra's bed were a stage, then he was its performer par excellence.

Each and every act far outclassing the one that came before.

His ivory mask was lifted, his mouth exposed and busy ravaging her plump breast.

One hand pleasured the wet, wanting blossom between her thighs and the other caressed the small of her back and her perfect buttocks.

 _Oh gods..._

The Virtuoso was lustfully tearing away what little clothing she had left, and she could do nothing but moan & writhe in ecstasy.

 _Such power..._

Her left hand went to his trousers and there she found his manhood, hard and proud under the fabric.

 _I want this...want him...I do..._

But as she began to caress it, the artist pulled her hand away gently and looked her straight in the eyes.

"No...this shall be _perfect_ ," he purred.

"Perfect...oh!"

Before she knew it, he had again locked his lips on hers, his tongue jousting with hers while he fondled her breast with one hand and his other teased at her raw sex.

She climaxed for the first time, her voice and her power reaching a glorious fortissimo, a powerful wave of psychic energy rattling the entire Celestial Fortress.

She had used what little control she could muster to bring no harm to him; the perfect man, the visionary artist, _her_ extraordinary lover _._

It was as if he didn't even notice. He continued his composition—a virtuoso directing his opera—his lips playing a melody of lust over her perfect stomach.

An accented adagio that eventually came to rest between her trembling thighs.

 _Oh gods...he isn't going to..._

Jhin had apparently made it a point to give Syndra something new every time they made love.

And then the artist changed the pace of his production and performed _a_ _cadenza_ with her body as _both_ instrument and performer.

The dark woman could barely control herself, her eyes rolling to the back of her head in ecstasy while he used his lips and tongue to pleasure her swollen blossom.

Every touch, every lick, every kiss...each a glorious, beautiful passage contributing to their concerto of passion.

As she came again a second time, she saw his face hovering over hers again.

He had taken his mask off this time.

It was a first. A silent crescendo like they never had.

He had always been adamant on leaving his mask on. That quirk was actually a turn-on for Syndra, but she discovered just then that having him make love to her without the infamous smiling visage that so identified him was an even greater source of pleasure, for then she finally beheld his _real_ face.

He said nothing as she traced his face with her slender hands.

His high cheekbones.

His aquiline nose.

His sharp jaw.

 _And he says he looks unremarkable_ , she said to herself, admiring her lover's sensual features.

She saw that his one remaining hazel eye was burning with lust and possibly even love.

He was the only one who could make her feel this weak.

"Jhin..." the Dark Sovereign whispered.

He kissed her again as he entered her, over and over again, muffling her soprano cry while his hips and manhood took over the production to steer it further to the top.

She felt his hands again working on her breasts, teasing her hard, wanting nipples in rhythmic passages even as their loins joined together in a lustful, erotic duet.

 _An artist..._

She climaxed again and again and again, marveling with what little wits she had left at her lover's ability to control himself as _he_ performed.

 _A Virtuoso indeed..._

* * *

When at last he came, she was spent beyond reason.

She was utterly weak lying beside him and stroking his face and pectorals.

"When I conquer all Runeterra, and all my enemies are vanquished," she teased, "I will have you relegated to be my personal steward...and body slave."

"Really now?" he snorted.

"There's no point in having an assassin when there are no enemies. After all you've shown me, you are as incredible in the bedroom as you are in the battlefield," she said as she kissed his cheek.

Jhin raised his eyebrow and smirked, "I doubt Zed would agree to such a position".

She had told him about her relationship with Zed after their first time making love. It pleased her when he had found it a non-issue stating that she was right in getting what she wants.

"I don't think Zed will live to have such a lofty place by my side and in my bed."

"Enlighten me."

"When he outlives his purpose, he will die. He is a pale _shadow_ of—"

Her words were cut off as the breath suddenly caught in her throat. Her head began to spin and coherent thought became almost impossible.

"Is there something wrong, my love?" she heard him tease as he got up from their bed.

She had closed her eyes momentarily and when she opened her eyes, she beheld in double vision a mask as pale as a skull smiling at her.

Though the world was spinning and she was struggling to breathe, her hearing was as clear as ever.

"Help—me..." she choked, fumbling for him.

The world was beginning to form a frightening kaleidoscope of twisted colors and shapes.

She also discovered that she was fast losing the ability to move _any_ part of her body.

The mask spoke soothingly, "I _am_ helping you."

"W...what did you..."

Her sense of touch was unimpeded, feeling his hands hold her head gently, stroking her cheek slowly and intimately.

"Zed is not yours to kill, love.. _I_ am his death, as I...am yours."

At that moment Syndra knew he was behind her sudden illness.

But the splinters in her mind could not even let her use her once-limitless powers.

For the first time in her life, the Dark Sovereign truly felt afraid as she crawled out of her bed and collapsed on the floor, naked, flaccid, and out of breath.

The world was a furious cacophony of flashing lights and unspeakable forms. She was locked inside her own skull, her powers all but gone.

"W...why..." she whimpered, as her heart hammered in her throat, "I...thought..y...you loved me..."

The pale mask drew closer to her face even as tears welled up in her eyes.

"I _do,_ dear Syndra. I love you with every fiber of my being. All this...is the purest way I can ever show you my love," it whispered tenderly.

 _No, please..._ she thought frantically closing her eyes trying to shut out the blinding madness in a last ditch effort to access her power.

"Shh, oh...your tears, they _sing to me!_ " he breathlessly exclaimed.

She felt his long fingers tenderly brush away the tears on her cheeks, "You have played your part wonderfully, my dear. "

Syndra willed herself to move, but she had gone as soft as a dead fish and felt her face again held tenderly in his hand.

"The next act approaches...but your part ends here. Rest easy, dear...you have been the _best_ leading lady I could ever ask for. Behold, my last gift to you. A testament to our love... _your_ last scenes shall be spoken of until time immemorial," Jhin breathed.

She opened her eyes to behold the eye of the smiling mask alive and burning with the fires of hell.

Despair and horror beyond words consumed her.

Only then did she notice through her twisted double-vision that he had something held in his hand.

A crimson lotus, one made with impeccable care and artistry, made for her and her alone.

"Art...is _worth_ the pain," the mask said in a seductive whisper.


	6. Act II - Chapter 1

**AUTHOR'S NOTE: In light of some new changes in the lore (such as Jax being an Icathian), I've decided to alter a few details somewhat. The story is still pretty much the same though.**

* * *

 **Act II - Chapter 1**

Irelia was no stranger to broken bodies.

She had seen plenty enough as a warrior and even more as a champion of the League of Legends.

Neither was she known for having a weak constitution.

She thought she had seen the depths of depravity then with the likes of the Dreadnought and the Demon Jester on how they dispatched their foes.

She had even thought that she had seen the worst that Khada Jhin could do in the Fields of Justice.

But this was another kind of butchery altogether, and she could not help but retch and vomit at the sight of the defiled corpse.

They had stormed the Celestial Fortress with an army behind them, Regent Soraka and Duchess Karma leading the van.

They all knew what Syndra was capable of, so any and every aid was needed.

It had taken them half a day to scale the grand mountain where Syndra had, for unknown reasons, deposited her oft-floating abode.

No minions of the Dark Sovereign had made themselves known either, and their host took that as an ominous sign.

They had soon discovered that there was no fight to be found that day.

Only horror.

When they had entered the courtyard of the Celestial Fortress, they found its gates unlocked with enormous beautifully rendered red words that spelled out what was meant to be a title for an artwork across the great bronze doors _._

 _The Immaculate Whore._

Affixed below it was Khada Jhin's own elegant signature, written also in blood.

When Duchess Karma had ordered the doors to be opened, Irelia was among those who turned back, sickened by the sight.

In the middle of the great hall of the Celestial Fortress, they found her suspended high between four great pillars by eight silver chains; one pair on each arm and shoulder, and two pairs wrapping the body's midsection from each side.

The naked corpse's arms were spread out and its entire form was arched slightly backward as if ascending. The body itself was covered in intricate, elegant crimson patterns crisscrossing patches and strips of ivory skin. As they drew closer, they saw that blood flowed out of them producing even more intricate patterns of red on the corpse's form.

The body had been flayed methodically in that manner, perhaps while the victim was still alive.

The same blood had pooled onto the floor and the Golden Demon had brought it upon himself to use it as a medium, decorating the black marble tiles in hundreds of liquid red lotus blossoms.

Syndra's corpse also had a clean, gaping hole blown through the middle of her chest.

Its artfully burnt edges matched the kind of wounds that Khada Jhin's weapons were known to produce.

The woman's head was tilted upwards to the skylight oculus of the hall and its silver-blonde locks styled into a long, elegant braid stained scarlet with bloody flowers. The face with its purple eyes still wide open was otherwise _untouched_ , in contrast to the rest of the body, albeit with bloody tears frozen on its cheeks.

The oculus of the great hall shone daylight down on the suspended body, making Syndra's mutilated corpse seem to ascend toward the light and the red lotus blossoms shimmer on the black stone floor.

Soraka had commanded their men to get the corpse down while Shen, Akali and the Blind Monk had led parties of soldiers and junior members of the Kinkou to scour the bowels of the once-great temple.

When Irelia had finished throwing up her last meal, she had found the Duchess and Master Yi examining the Dark Sovereign's mutilated body.

She had attempted to look upon the body again, but turned away almost immediately after glimpsing it.

"They had been intimate, and I would wager this was not the first time," Irelia heard the old swordsman grimly say, "there is seed between her thighs."

The Blade Dancer felt a shudder that had nothing to do with the biting cold of the mountaintop.

 _What kind of monster would slaughter his lover like this?_

She fought back the urge to vomit again.

She had no love for Syndra, but even she found this kind of death too harrowing even for such a formidable enemy.

"She had a taste for dangerous men," the Enlightened One said, knowing enough about Syndra and Zed's relationship, "but here she had bitten off more than she could chew."

She then resumed in scanning the body with her magic, searching for more clues as to how the Dark Sovereign had died with the Wuju master assisting her.

The hardened warrior found herself too sick for anything and leaned on a nearby pillar.

She closed her eyes, trying to calm herself but only saw Syndra's face, tears of blood flowing from her dead, unseeing eyes.

The vision was too much, and Irelia fainted.

* * *

The uproar from the Ionian populace could not have been any more furious.

Soraka remembered how the crowd had literally erupted in indignation following the Council's announcement that the Golden Demon had been loose for close to four months.

After all the silence, cover-ups and double deals that the council had done to ensure that mass panic did not hinder their investigations, she could not blame them.

Syndra's formidable might was known throughout Runeterra, none moreoso than in Ionia.

If a being possessed of such legendary power could be _defiled_ in such a manner—let alone be _slain_ —then it was only right that the one who murdered her would inspire fear that was justly legendary.

The grisly murder had been the spark that birthed the inferno.

The soldiers who accompanied them to the Celestial Fortress were the first. Possessed by raw terror, they demanded an explanation.

They received one.

It was not something that becalmed them.

Soon enough the news and rumors had spread like wildfire throughout Ionia and chaos unknown since the time of the Noxian invasion started to root and fester anew.

Aside from the many whispers running rampant, copycat killers had emerged, complicating matters and adding kindling to the roaring flames.

Though they were put down or captured, the damage was done, and the Ionian atmosphere was rife again with despair, horror and rage.

On the day that the Council had decided to divulge the truth, entire legions of families had denounced them with venom in their voices and their souls.

 _"Traitors!"_

 _"My son's blood is in your hands!"_

 _"My family is dead because of you!"_

Such maledictions were but a few that were thrown at them at the time.

It might have turned into a blood-filled riot, one almost unheard of in Ionia's notably pacifistic history, had not the Enlightened One herself chosen to speak and personally explain—and apologize—for their course of actions.

Soraka was countless ages old, but she had not the skills of an orator, and was glad that Karma was one who possessed such a gift.

She had confessed near all of it—from the Golden Demon's bloody exit from the Tuula monastery, to the numerous murders which had been kept silent, including that of Lord Yaami. The Duchess had even given a vivid account of the expedition to Syndra's fortress and the horrific sights that they had beheld.

But what impressed the former Celestial truly was how Karma had empathized afterwards; had taken the responsibility and shame of all Khada Jhin's murders upon herself as she apologized to the infuriated masses.

 _"Their blood is on my hands...let your agony be mine as well, people of Ionia! "_

Her declamation was hypnotic, Soraka thought, and she knew Karma meant all of it.

 _"If you will mourn for your dead, allow me to mourn with you. But now is not the time to weep, for now you know the harsh truth. It was a difficult decision for all of us here to keep that truth from you, but we did so believing it would keep the peace and the greater good."_

Somehow she had not even needed to summon her vast arcane powers and succeeded in restoring calm to the populace.

 _"I say to you now, my people, that I—no, we your rulers had taken every step to ensure your safety without having to poison your hearts with fear. We had done and are still doing all we could to track down Khada Jhin, but all of you must remember just how elusive a quarry he is."_

 _"I see now that we should have told you the truth sooner. That keeping this madman's continued reign of terror secret—even if only to give us the slightest advantage in hunting him down—was folly. Now you know... I ask all of you...no, I plead, that you keep your faith in us as well as yourselves. For every moment we spend in fear, is every moment that allows the Golden Demon an edge."_

Somehow, the Duchess had managed to turn the tide, for applause and tears met her words.

 _"We must stand as one Ionia, as we have after the ravages of Noxus. As one nation, we shall capture this monster. As one nation, we shall judge him for his crimes. As one nation...we shall endure and pave the way for a brighter tomorrow."_

The Duchess wept despite herself as she commanded new orders for tightening security throughout Ionia, one which would keep the populace protected and informed.

 _Or so we hope_ , Soraka thought.

The Duchess was exhausted after addressing the Ionian people and requested some time to collect herself before attending the newest meeting arranged by Lord Shen.

She had lost count then of just how many times they had convened for the past three months.

This time though, they had decided to hold their gathering in the Placidium rather than the Kinkou monastery.

The fragile peace that the Enlightened One had brokered with the people must be dealt with in transparency. It would do well to show the people that they were truly discussing matters.

But then the former Celestial heard a familiar call from beyond the material realm, and she surrendered herself to a meditative state immediately.

* * *

"Regent, are you well?" addressed Wukong, who noticed the Starchild's reverie.

"I don't think she hears you, Wukong...she is in some trance. I can sense it," remarked Ahri.

The monkey warrior smiled rather embarrassedly at his good friend, and at that moment the others had entered the room and allowed themselves to sit on chairs along a long stone table.

They paid no mind to the meditating Soraka, knowing full well that she was convening with some higher power and oblivious to the material plane.

The Eye of the Twilight took it upon himself to start the meeting.

The Unforgiven was the first to speak, "Shieda Kayn is dead."

Faces hardened upon the news. The Shadow Reaper, long since cut ties from the Order of Shadows, was no friend of theirs. His monomaniacal quest to master his Darkin-possessed weapon had led him to violently decline the Duchess' clandestine request long before.

"The Pridestalker had sent word today. He found Kayn in his quarters, poisoned."

"What was Rengar's business with him?" asked Irelia, knowing well of the Pridestalker's volatile nature.

"Shieda Kayn had sought his aid as a tracker in...hunting down certain personages whom he believed held power that may help further his mad quest...I confess, that I had sought Rengar's aid as well in hunting the Noxian exile, Riven. That is how the Pridestalker knows me. I also asked him begrudgingly to report Kayn's actions from time to time. As you may know, O Enlightened One, you and Regent Soraka are easily on his list."

The Duchess' green eyes darkened, "Continue, my friend."

"Yes. The poison described by the Pridestalker...it is the same as the one that had been used on Syndra. Rengar had discovered it mixed in with the potion that Shieda Kayn consumed regularly to hamper the Darkin's attempts in conquering his body. There was also a lotus petal in the cask of potion the Reaper had carried with him on his journey. The Darkin scythe itself was said to have crumbled to ashes and dust."

Murmurs went about the room. Shieda Kayn's death had all the hallmarks of Khada Jhin's work.

The poison he used was itself sinister and known only to select few across Runeterra.

The _Kiss of Sin_ it was called.

A high or chronic dose caused sudden death by stopping the heart.

In lower doses it shattered the mind, vision, and motion of the victim while heightening their senses of hearing and touch.

It was tasteless and odourless, making it a favoured, if difficult to procure means of assassination or torture.

Ionian in origin, Jhin would have been intimately familiar with it given his days as a professional assassin for the cabal.

Though an antidote existed, it was only effective if taken _before_ the poison took hold.

When the Duchess and Master Yi had finished their examination of Syndra's corpse, they had found traces of the poison on the body's lips. They were able to deduce what had followed.

It was brilliant in its simplicity.

Khada Jhin had smeared the poison on his lips, having ingested the antidote some time before that, and simply kissed Syndra during their last passion.

What followed next for Syndra was a kind of suffering that none of them could stomach nor dare comprehend.

It was black poetry that they all knew held a certain charm for the Virtuoso.

He had proven himself a most insidious killer before but his murder of Syndra had chilled them to the bone.

Here was a man who had used, destroyed and defiled a virtual goddess.

It unnerved all of them even more that even from so far away, Khada Jhin had again claimed another life.

"What of Xayah and Rakan?" The Blind Monk had inquired.

"They have not been heard of since journeying off into the Freljord with Udyr and Gragas. For all intents and purposes, they are unreachable there," replied Master Yi.

Lee Sin sighed, "A shame...we could have used their help right now."

They all knew they needed aid, for despite Karma's reassurance to the people, their investigations in prior months had gone badly.

All they had discovered was that Khada Jhin had been tirelessly working on his weapons in captivity. Many if not all, had been shipped off to parts unknown by a long dead intermediary who had smuggled them out the vaults of the Tuula monastery.

They had also uncovered substantial evidence that linked Syndra's involvement in their dealings, and that it was she who had been coordinating with Lord Yaami regarding the same shipments.

They were dead now, and every potential lead they had tried to follow was also found murdered by the Golden Demon himself.

Every snare they had tried to implement ended in failure.

Even The Eye of the Twilight was beginning to fray at the edges with the number of his apprentices that had been butchered, despite reassurances from Kennen and Akali that it was none his fault.

They had even kept an eye on the Order of Shadows, in the unlikely event that Zed had decided to renege on his oath.

So far, the Master of Shadows had proven himself a man of his word.

He made no attempts at sending aid however, and every attempt to reach him had been violently rebuffed.

"I suspect there is a bigger plan at work here. I confess, this is something that has been ripening at the back of my mind for some time now," said Shen who looked as if he had aged ten years in three months.

"Enlighten us, Master Shen," said Karma.

"The Golden Demon rarely killed without a higher 'purpose'," Shen said thoughtfully, "he views murder as art, as you all well know. But he always works towards...'grandeur' for lack of better word."

"In four days...the Blossom Festival." the Duchess grimly said.

"Yes. Where my father had defeated him, and where he had suffered his first capture," Shen said, relieved that the Enlightened One was on the same page he was.

Wukong scratched his chin, "That would seem too predictable. Surely, he would know that we would expect him to act there and then."

"I believe that is precisely what he wants, Master Wukong."

Yasuo nodded, "I agree. You recall...when Khada Jhin sent word to Master Shen about his deeds in the Celestial Fortress."

The monkey's expression darkened, "Yes...I remember."

"He all but taunted us to try in his letter. I believe he understands that we are smart enough to know where and when he plans to act next," Irelia remarked.

"But all of us against just himself? Should we not call off the festival at least?" Ahri motioned.

A darkness came over Shen's face, "He has never backed down from such odds, and we can be sure that he has something planned."

"The people will never agree to postponing the Festival anyway..." Irelia said sadly, "it is a hallowed tradition."

Shen sighed, "All our leads end at the Blossom Festival. Lord Yaami's involvement, the _timing_ of these events, everything...I feel history is repeating itself... I admit, we should have foreseen this. _I_ should have foreseen this."

"This last duplicity may be the last real chance we have to capture or destroy that monster, and it is clear now that we have been played for fools," Shen then looked around the table and looked at his fellow champions' faces, "it is now, or never."

At that moment, Soraka had snapped out of her vision.

"I must convene with the stars."


	7. Act II - Chapter 2

**Act II - Chapter 2**

He breathed in heavy.

He breathed in deep.

No matter how many performances he would do, nerves—always, the nerves!

But it actually pleased him.

Anticipation always heightened the grandeur of the moment.

And the moment was all but there.

 _One more day...one more day...one more day...one more day..._

The Virtuoso had been careful in the past four days, especially after the Duchess had laid the truth bare to the mob.

Had he the choice, he would have made the Enlightened One announce his performances sooner, but when he saw how the crowd reacted, he saw that this was even better than what he had wanted.

 _Oh, what a glorious feeling it was..._

He had listened to her that day, a member in the vast crowd.

Indistinguishable, as only a master of disguise & theatricality could.

Just some middle aged merchant or trader who happened to be in outrage about the Golden Demon's continued freedom.

It was a dangerous move, even for him, and his logical side all but shouted to him to watch or listen from a safe distance.

But he was never one for self-control.

He had waited long enough after all.

The way Karma carried herself...so regal, so proper, so charismatic!

He actually applauded her with all his heart, along with the rest of the crowd.

 _It_ was _a magnanimous speech,_ he recalled fondly while he crafted his latest work.

It had taken him a long time to reverse engineer some of the hextech that the champions of Zaun and Piltover had used, and even longer to integrate such designs into his already existing weapons.

He was not willing to sacrifice his instruments' Ionian aesthetic and beauty...but he saw the practicality in those hideous weapons, and his masterpiece required as much advantage as he can get.

 _It was worth the effort...art is worth everything!_

He gazed lovingly at the hand-crafted shell he had just finished and shed a tear.

 _Magnificent..._

The cartridge was made of custom-forged Ionian bronze and ivory ceramic similar to his own mask with intricate designs hand-carved on its outer casing. Inside it hummed a modified hextech core which concentrated the ambient arcane energy that was so strong in Ionia.

In each shell was the power for exactly four shots, and the fourth was guaranteed to be devastatingly glorious in its execution.

 _Flawless._

After admiring it for a while just because he _had_ to, he loaded it into Whisper.

There were already three shells inside her barrel.

And now here was their fourth sister.

 _Click._

Jhin's breathing started to speed up again.

Part of her artfulness came after the fourth shot.

 _The rush._

That time spent reloading before the next volley of four was a source of unmitigated pleasure for him, knowing that his puppets would think they had a reprieve if they had managed to survive the first four.

 _That delightful moment, before the curtain comes up._

Whisper herself was modified to keep that feature among others, with a short delay time after each fourth shot despite not needing to reload at all after a total of _sixteen_ shots.

And he had made four sets of four.

 _More than enough...more than perfection._

He then proceeded to examine Whisper herself to admire her finely wrought features, before proceeding to clean her thoroughly.

 _One. Two. Three. Four._

Everything had to be perfect.

 _One. Two. Three. Four._

Everything else was where it should be.

 _One. Two. Three. Four._

The stage and all the actors and actresses were all set.

 _One. Two. Three. Four._

And when the ward-probe in his pocket started ringing, he smiled.

He was ready for his opening act.

* * *

She let out a sigh of relief.

It had been a long time ever since the Starchild returned home.

The forest around her, with its ageless trees, the grove with ancient magics weaved into the very earth, and the grand open canopy with a view of the countless stars overhead.

The Astral Grove, mortals had called it, its true name incomprehensible by any mortal tongue.

But to Soraka it was simply home.

Her _real_ home.

It was there that she had helped mortals for countless centuries before her fall.

She had not been able to visit it as often as she would have wanted due to the socio-political chaos that Ionia was going through at the moment, and she had a duty to the people as a Regent.

But every time the stars would call out to her directly as they did three nights hence, she would always make the long trip to commune with them.

They were strongest there at her place, and their invitations were never clear or strong anywhere else.

The cool breeze of the night relaxed the former Celestial.

It was a long, tiring journey and she thanked the cosmos for that small measure of comfort.

Even then, there was no time to lose.

The stars' muddied call was almost overwhelming at that point. They kept calling out to her the whole way going back home, but their voices were unrecognizable, like trying to hear something underwater.

All she knew was whatever they had to say, it was important.

She hoped that they had something on Khada Jhin.

It may have not worked before, but back then Ionia was in chaos. The rampant flow of magic caused by said chaos all but disrupted the stars' ability to communicate with her and vice versa.

 _Perhaps this time..._

She recalled how Karma had attempted to talk her out of it claiming that she had a bad feeling about this.

When that suggestion failed, the Duchess had asked that she at least bring a retinue of guards.

She had refused. Their presence would only disrupt her communion with the stars, something which unfortunately could not be helped.

She _had_ to do this alone.

She also assured the Duchess that her grove was all but unknown.

It was deep in the forests of Zhyun and otherwise uncharted.

It was a place that found people, and not the other way around...well save for her and a few select others she had chosen to disclose it to.

Karma had relented eventually, and gave her an emerald luck-brooch, now affixed on her garb.

She grasped it with a fond hand.

 _I will apologize after all this,_ she thought as she walked towards the starlit centre of the grove.

Karma was a good friend, and she only did what she did with Soraka's well-being in mind.

In a few minutes, it would be tomorrow.

Tomorrow was the Blossom Festival.

Tomorrow was when the Golden Demon was going to make his move and they needed all the help they can get.

With that last thought in mind, Soraka sat down in a meditative lotus position and surrendered herself to the flow of the universe.

* * *

There is a unique relationship between killer and victim.

A bizarre, twisted symbiosis where one simply could not exist without the other.

 _You and I...we are one in_ this _moment._

Just as an artist could never be without his art. Just as a singer can never be without his song.

 _Ready yourself, dear, the curtain is about to rise!_

It was this frame of thought that made his heart flutter in his chest while he readied Whisper's beautifully forged cane attachment.

He needed range for this piece.

The Virtuoso experienced giddiness that had nothing to do with the cool night breeze.

He still could not believe how well this part of his masterpiece had worked.

As a matter of fact, of all its scenes, this proved to be the most unpredictable in the drawing board, and he had produced several backup plans in case it failed.

It was even harder for him learning how to manipulate mind-based magics than in reverse engineering Piltovian and Zaunite hextech, but here he beheld the proof of his success.

He would thank Shaco and Fiddlesticks if he could.

They were masters of that art, and the moment he had witnessed them at work, he saw that he wanted— _needed_ —to make their ways his own.

More grandeur for the majesty of his magnum opus.

Those two were considered monstrous butchers by most, but he saw them as kindred, albeit unknowing spirits.

Even so, their artistry was pale compared to his.

They only used their artistic ability in inducing only fear.

But they no longer mattered to him now.

Only what he had learned _and_ made his own from them mattered. Only the fact that such methods worked mattered.

His prey sat still as stone, eyes closed in tranquil meditation.

 _Face the crowd, Soraka, and_ bleed _for them!_

He could see the audience already...crying and cheering and glorifying of the spectacle at hand!

A lover's caress was what the specially-crafted round experienced as it was expertly and tenderly lain inside the Virtuoso's instrument.

 _Focus._ It had to be _perfect_.

* * *

The stars were never clear in their messages, in her experience.

But what transpired then baffled & unnerved Soraka in a way she had never experienced before.

They had been calling out to her for the past four days were they not?

She had expected some calm, esoteric message in the cosmic tongue.

She had hoped that such a message held something of value for their current situation.

But the message now was something she had never expected to hear.

 _STAY AWAY!_

The stars all but shouted to her.

 _DANGER IS AFOOT!_

The Starchild did not understand, and implored why. She _had_ to know!

That whole time she had never noticed the invisible ward that stood inconspicuously on the edge of the grove. Never noticed that she was being watched.

 _Run child! RUN!_

She decided to act on the stars' wisdom, her heart pounding like a drum as she left her trance.

A shooting star or so it seemed, red and radiant and ripping through the air with a velocity that seemed to defy the laws of reality, bedazzled her in the split second she had opened her eyes.

* * *

Karma couldn't quite remember when the last time was that she had run so vigorously.

But she had no choice.

When the beacon she had deftly disguised as a luck-brooch had stopped transmitting, she knew that something was wrong.

She felt terrible knowing that she hadn't told the truth to her closest friend, Soraka. She was only concerned for her well-being after all.

Had Soraka known that she was to wear a tracker beacon, she would vehemently refuse, hence the duplicity.

With her came the rest of the remaining Ionian champions; Shen, Kennen, Irelia, Wukong, Yi, Ahri, Yasuo, Lee-Sin, Akali and Sona.

She and Irelia had been following Soraka for the past four days while the other champions had been busy patrolling the Jyom Pass.

The Blossom Festival was going into full swing with every passing minute.

Each minute was a potential window of opportunity for Khada Jhin to strike. It had calmed Karma's heart when the other champions had agreed to aid her by acting as guardians of the millions of people who had gathered to celebrate the grand Festival.

She was even more grateful when they had come without question to her aid once she sent word that something had happened to Soraka.

The Astral Grove, as it happened was not at all far away from the pass itself where the Festival was held.

Even then, the land was formidable, and Soraka was still far from where they were.

And so they ran through the dense forests of the mountains of Zhyun, with the hope that they would find the Starchild alive and well.

When the small group of heroes set their eyes upon the scene in the Astral Grove, the blood turned cold in their veins.


	8. Act II - Chapter 3

**Act II - Chapter 3**

The body was spread eagled on its back dead centre of the grove.

Golden ichor—the blood of the Celestial—was splattered in a peculiar pattern around it.

Somehow, said ichor had formed into the pattern of a rose.

A _golden_ rose, with the corpse as the bud at its core.

Starlight bathed the body and the gore-soaked grass, as if a gruesome mirror of the night sky above.

Master Yi and Wukong were the first to reach the body and soon the other champions were gathered around it at a respectable distance.

Karma was the last, and by then tears were flowing freely from her eyes.

She took one look at Soraka's body and fell to her knees.

It was too much.

The corpse literally had its head blown off.

Nothing left but a burnt stump of a neck that still dripped golden ichor.

The enchantment in the round used by the Virtuoso to literally blast off Soraka's head ensured that the shockwave would distribute itself to form the ichor rose in which they now stood.

The Duchess also saw that the body had been wrapped in four thick garlands of ichor-spattered wildflowers which formed an X across the Starchild's chest.

An object resembling a large, ivory colored version of Khada Jhin's infamous Lotus Traps rested on top of the body.

Knowing it was potentially dangerous, Sona had taken it upon herself to wordlessly levitate the object with her music.

When its petals had begun to spin, Sona had quickly shifted her spells to protect her fellows.

But the "trap" did not detonate.

Instead, its petals spun even more furiously like some demented clock.

As it did, glittering red and gold lights projected themselves from the "trap", enveloping the grove in a glittering sphere.

The champions of Ionia soon saw letters in golden light form the title of Khada Jhin's latest 'piece'.

 _Dreams of Creation._

While they stood transfixed by the show, a set of new words had written themselves in the air.

 _"Send my regards to Shen & Zed..."_

As suddenly as it had activated, the lights vanished from existence and the "trap" slowly floated down to rest over the corpse's chest.

The petals then came apart to reveal something hidden in its core.

Karma saw and let out a wail of horror.

Atop the decapitated corpse sat a heart bleeding gold.

* * *

Master Yi stepped toward the body and gently cast the heart on the grass.

He then teased apart the garlands and revealed a meticulously performed cruciform incision on the body's chest.

There was no doubt now to whom the heart belonged to.

Then he heard it.

"TAKE COVER!" the distinguished swordsman shouted.

He knew the shot was aimed at him judging from the position of the sound.

Only his lightning fast-reflexes honed after decades of endless, punishing training saved him.

In a feat that was true testament to his being a Wuju master, Yi had caught the red-hot round in his hand just before it was to strike his head.

In the moment he had taken to see if his colleagues were all right, Master Yi never noticed the bullet burn white-hot in his left hand.

* * *

Wukong saw the flash, but no longer heard the explosion in his state of shock.

Lee Sin who was closest to Master Yi, had his face blasted apart by shrapnel from the exploding round.

Akali, Shen and Irelia were blown several meters backward by the force of the explosion.

Wukong saw that close to half of his old master's torso, along with his entire left arm was gone.

He ran to just in time to catch his mentor's spasming body in his arms and all around him erupted chaos.

* * *

Wukong's anguished scream had woken Karma from her grieving stupor.

She saw that it was hopeless to save the old swordsman.

She also discovered to her horror that the Golden Demon had claimed more lives in the seconds that followed.

Sona had caught a round in her throat, falling lifeless onto the grass with smoke emitting from her mouth.

The Nine Tailed Fox also fell, dead from a bullet that had ripped through her heart, a small, choked "ah!" her last word, as if surprised that she was already dead.

But worst of all befell Kennen.

The tiny, brave yordle had attempted to shield Akali and Shen who were both injured by the blast that had killed the Blind Monk and the elderly Wuju master.

She and the remaining champions who still lived saw the spectacle unfold as Kennen literally exploded, throwing fire, blood and gore in every direction.

* * *

Khada Jhin would have given nearly anything to have been able to freeze that split-second for eternity.

He had thought that the sight of Soraka's divine brains being blown into the golden rose fantastic.

He thought that the round that had claimed Lee Sin's and Master Yi's lives magnificent—even if he never suspected that Master Yi was capable of actually catching it.

He had originally intended the explosive bullet to simply spread out the champions and send them into disarray—what was music without a little discord?—but the way that particular scene unfolded was better than anything else he could have dreamed of.

Kennen's death however...

It was... _beyond_ words _._

To him the effects of Whisper's fourth accelerator-aided round on Kennen's tiny body seemed to occur in slow motion.

Perhaps that round had too much magic concentrated in its core.

Perhaps it was how that magic reacted to Kennen's own spells.

So many variables...so many unknowns that could have escaped even the artist's expansive grasp. These were proverbial flaps of butterfly wings capable of altering the course of hurricanes. The silent dance of subatomic particles directing the cosmic ballet of galaxies through space and time.

All these singly dissonant notes, each with the potential to ruin his life's work or worse, primed and ready...yet as one they had found _harmony_.

Each disparate element somehow complementing the whole in a way that transcended life and death, absurdity and reason.

It was a symphony of raw inspiration, one that seemed to have composed _itself_. Immaculate beauty birthed from primordial chaos.

The artist saw the tiny ninja bloom.

 _How lovely!_

Bloom into a fiery lotus!

A phoenix singing in triumph while rising from the grave.

 _Spectacular!_

But there would be no resurrection for Kennen.

Only a beautiful death.

He heard Shen yell out for Kennen while he attended Akali. The younger Kinkou was bleeding out from wounds she had received from the explosion that killed Master Yi and Lee Sin.

 _What sweet sadness is killing,_ he thought fondly.

But he could not appreciate nor bask in the beauty of this latest of works for long.

The artist knew it was time to go on hearing the monkey's rage-filled screech and his fellow performers rushing toward where he stood.

 _Right. On. Cue._

So the Golden Demon ran, just as he had planned.

The next part of the play was set.

 _I shall bring them an opera of death._

His composition was in full force, and the Virtuoso smiled in ecstatic anticipation of what would follow next.

 _My audience awaits._

* * *

With a feral screech, Wukong had found the strength to get up and run towards the Golden Demon's location.

He had lost two of his dearest friends; one his greatest teacher and the other the closest he had to a lover, to the monster whose life was his to end.

 _He will pay!_

His grief-stricken rage stabbed at him like a sword through his heart, and the only thing he saw were his enemy's tracks and the mutilated bodies of his Ahri and Master Yi.

He soon outpaced Irelia and Yasuo, using his quadrupedal stature and his being at home within the trees to his advantage.

His senses, honed to a degree that rivalled that of Master Yi allowed him to dodge and deflect the shots that Khada Jhin had fired in attempts to kill him.

"YOU WILL NOT ESCAPE!" the monkey Wuju master shouted into the brush as he continued his chase.

He heard the other surviving champions calling out from behind.

But he could not wait for them.

Justice—no, _vengeance_ —must be served.

And after four of his quarry's shots, Wukong finally saw the Virtuoso himself looking in his direction.

The famed killer was garbed in his usual battle outfit; a white and gold, exquisitely tailored poncho-like cape that hid the custom-built hextech accelerator on one shoulder, golden, hand-forged greaves and expensive purple cloth that draped over a black eelsuit.

And the infamous mask.

One hazel eye glinted malice from under it, and its smiling visage sent Wukong into a mindless rage.

Summoning an enchanted nimbus cloud, he readied himself while speeding towards the Virtuoso, all thought gone except that of splitting the killer's skull open with his staff.

 _Almost there!_

The Virtuoso simply stood his ground, almost relaxed in contrast to Wukong who had all but primed every fiber of his being for the kill.

As he dashed atop his magic cloud, a veritable field of bronze and ivory flowers lit up from underneath him.

* * *

The survivors beheld another explosion, and soon came upon Wukong's mutilated body.

Yasuo, Irelia, Shen and Karma could not mourn nor do anything else but to follow his killer.

There would be no compromise now; Khada Jhin must die.

The Golden Demon was headed towards the Festival all but taunting them to catch him.


	9. Act II - Chapter 4

**Act II - Chapter 4**

Pandemonium greeted their group when they finally arrived in the pass.

Yasuo saw death and destruction everywhere he laid his eyes over.

Fire enveloped the artfully crafted huts and pavilions while people ran helter skelter for their lives.

The Unforgiven saw the corpses of ninjas; Kinkou and surprisingly, members of the Order of the Shadow spread along with those of countless civilians.

He then heard an ear-splitting shattering noise.

Time seemed to stand still when each and every one of the blades that formed a simulacra of Irelia's family crest simultaneously erupted into glittering, razor-edged pieces—the Virtuoso it seemed had created a round whose mystical resonance matched that of her blades.

Like a song, the magical frequency that bound Irelia and her blades together existed such that every note, every rest, every key had to occur in just the right way. It was that melody that made the last heir of the Xan such a formidable warrior.

By that same virtue, a single note—one that fit the rest of the composition but played at the _wrong_ time would be enough to extirpate that harmony and turn song into cacophony...

A tormented scream, barely human, escaped the Blade Dancer's throat as she died—whether from the obliteration of her mind due to the psychic backlash of her blades' destruction or from how the shattered remains of those same blades shredded her flesh beyond recognition, none would probably ever know.

Yasuo could do nothing except throw a wind wall immediately at Shen and Karma, blocking just in time the remaining hail of blade fragments and the volley of rounds that Irelia's murderer had aimed at them and the crowd that had gathered to their aid.

The Unforgiven wasted no time moving quickly towards his quarry.

Khada Jhin was within striking range and appeared to be reloading his sidearm.

Yasuo had no other chance but this.

Summoning a small whirlwind that swept the masked murderer off his feet and high into the air, he immediately leapt and rode a self-generated gale towards his vulnerable opponent.

" _Sorye ge ton!_ " he cried out, delivering the series of strikes that had become known as the Last Breath.

 _Its over..._ he thought, dropping to the ground beside the gravely wounded Jhin.

He heard Shen shout something to him, and only then did he notice that the blood flowing from the slashes across the Golden Demon's torso was pitch black and smelled of oil.

The Jhin automaton suddenly rose like a vengeful wraith and grabbed the bewildered Yasuo by his throat.

"Precious—" the mechanical abomination growled.

Karma attempted to strike away the hextech Jhin automaton using her magic, but it was too late.

* * *

As with Kennen, she and Shen saw to their horror how the arms of the Jhin-thing lit up and exploded like the real Jhin's lotus traps, obliterating their last living ally's throat with it.

Yasuo was thrown backward in a spray of blood and the smell of scorched flesh, his neck a red ruin.

" _NO!"_ she cried out, another death heavy on her conscience.

The Eye of the Twilight held his ground, pushing the Duchess backward.

She followed immediately by casting a spell in an attempt to shield the veritable crowd that had gathered around them for protection from the inferno and from the Golden Demon himself.

Then atop a burning stone temple, the real Khada Jhin revealed himself.

"Transcendant is it not?" the masked killer said to the cowering populace, "my masterpiece...and you are all privileged to be a part of it."

"Surrender yourself now, Jhin!" Karma cried out; despite her outrage and grief, she still attempted to reason with him, if only to buy her people more time.

The Virtuoso chuckled, "I am afraid I cannot, dear Duchess. This art is a compulsion...and until anyone stops me, I _will_ keep going."

Shen stood silent despite his anguish from Kennen's brutal murder and Akali's death from hemorrhage.

The Duchess expected Jhin to strike then somewhere, somehow. He had proven himself to be the most insidious of foes, and had made fools of them all.

What she could not have expected was for the killer to reach into a pouch on his belt to reveal an ivory-white lotus trap which soon levitated by itself.

"But before the end...a parting gift," the Virtuoso said graciously.

The ivory white lotus illuminated and soon projected a replay of events.

It dawned on all who watched that these were the events that led to Khada Jhin escaping his second captivity.

It was shocking enough by itself, but the revelation of who had set Jhin free from his cell was beyond words.

The image revealed a ninja garbed in a traditional Kinkou battle uniform but the eyes and mask said it all.

The Eye of the Twilight was the one who set the Virtuoso free.

She and the crowd heard a roar of outrage and saw a shuriken sail toward Khada Jhin, cast by what appeared to be a shadow that had thrown itself towards their position.

The masked killer turned just in time before the shuriken could lodge itself in his throat.

The Duchess then looked towards Shen, still not processing fully what she had seen in the recording.

The Master of the Kinkou was no longer standing still, but locked in mortal combat with a man he had once called brother.

* * *

"TRAITOR!" Zed roared out as he struck, "YOU SANCTIMONIOUS BASTARD! WHAT HAVE YOU DONE!"

"Only what I had to do!" Shen growled back as he broke a bladelock, not denying what the Virtuoso had just decided to show to the world.

The Master of Shadows gave him no respite, "Your talk of balance...all LIES!"

The two ninja masters duelled furiously as the inferno grew, their blades clashing, adding to the cacophony that had once been a bustling festival.

* * *

Explosions great and small rattled the very earth and those in attendance of the Blossom Festival realized that perhaps the entire pass was rigged to detonate.

 _Art should terrify..._ he thought excitedly.

And terrifying it certainly was.

He had lost count just how many had died by his hand in the hours that had passed.

But he basked in it all the same.

His masterpiece was unfolding gloriously...and the production was unstoppable.

His shipments _did_ make it home, he mused, beholding the explosions from the ledge he had taken to collect himself.

The fact that the Jyom Pass was made mostly of pyronite—a potentially explosive, naturally formed rock—added to the spectacle of the grandest stage he had ever had the chance to set.

He brushed one arm towards his neck, and felt blood. It was enough to tell him that the cut was superficial but still deep enough to be exquisitely painful.

 _It hurts so good..._

Had he been a second slower, Zed's razor-sharp shuriken would have cut through his great vessels and that would have been the end.

But that was not to be.

 _Not yet_ , reloading four new shells into Whisper.

The next scene was at hand.

* * *

Despite the shocking reveal that Shen could have been a double agent or worse, Karma found herself not caring for that.

There will be time for Shen to answer her questions.

 _Provided we survive,_ she thought grimly at the back of her mind.

Shen could not help her as Zed continued his assault, yelling out condemnations as he did.

She had more pressing matters on her mind; namely leading crowds of surviving Ionian civilians towards safe passage, protecting them from the explosions and the blaze using her sorcery.

She was tired; so, so tired and weary of all the death and misery that had happened in the past months and on that very day.

But she could not rest. She must be strong.

For her people.

For Ionia.

To and fro, she guided and helped groups of her frightened countrymen.

The Duchess was beside a wall of the Grand Temple of Jyom, where the flying lanterns were to be set free that night, when she heard an almighty crunching sound and witnessed part of its massive facade fall down from above.

She wasted no time in using her magic to support the edifice, shouting to the crowd to run for safety.

She knew then that she was vulnerable, but what choice did she have?

The Enlightened One felt like her very life was draining from her as she strained to lift the wall of the temple.

The thought of her people's safety gave her strength and soon she was able to slowly inch the fallen wall upwards and to the side.

And then she felt a burning pain in her gut, followed by the same in her right leg and her left arm.

Bleeding profusely from her wounds and on her knees, she continued her attempt to set the wall aside.

It soon dawned on the Duchess that her strength was leaving her as fast as the life blood draining out of her veins.

Tears poured from her emerald eyes.

She was failing, and inevitably would fail.

 _Forgive me...Ionia..._

The wall crashed down on Karma when the last gunshot—the proverbial bell that tolled—consumed her heart in a siren song of fire and fury.

* * *

After a short pause where they beheld the Duchess' death, the two ninja masters were soon left alone in the inferno.

Only the explosions and the crying voices of the dead and dying their company.

Shen deftly dodged or blocked Zed's enraged assault, and he answered back in kind both Zed's maledictions and attacks.

 _I had to do it!_ he had shouted to the furious Zed.

It was an unspeakable deed.

Monstrous.

Unforgiveable.

But he _had_ to.

The balance had demanded him not to act.

 _But how could there be balance with him alive?_ he reasoned, recalling the words that Khada Jhin himself had thrown in his face when he had first come to the League.

 _Until you stop me, Shen...I will keep going,_ the masked monster had taunted.

He had to kill the Golden Demon.

Only then would peace and the balance be assured.

He had half hoped that Zed would turn the tables around during their first meetings aboard the _Harbinger_ four months past, but his fellow champions were too merciful.

That left only one possible choice.

It had been easy enough for him to enter the Tuula monastery undetected.

The truly difficult part was the decision when he had come to the door of the Demon's cell.

But to kill an adversary while he was alone and defenseless in a cell?

No.

Shen had grimly hoped that night that the Virtuoso would make his escape without shedding blood in the name of stealth, and the monks of Tuula had paid the price for his hubris.

Despite the act of freeing Khada Jhin and the horrors that had followed, Shen still had his honor.

 _"_ You _dare_ consider yourself to have _honor?_ " the Master of Shadows had called out in indignation.

Despite all the monstrous crimes that the Virtuoso had done since the fateful day he had dared to free him, Shen held true to the promise that he would bring an end to the horror he had unleashed.

Zed would hear none of it. Not that he expected him to.

Shen vowed to answer for his crimes.

For the countless deaths.

For the deaths of his students.

For Kennen and Akali.

But first he had to overcome Zed without being killed by Khada Jhin and perhaps give a small measure of justice for his lord father.

* * *

The Virtuoso sat watching from inside the Grand Temple.

He could have killed them already from where he was; Whisper was loaded and ready, and he was far from the reach of either Zed or Shen.

Simple.

Easy.

Unappealing.

 _No._

These two were his _real_ supporting acts.

Through death they shall transcend, and he even moreso.

They needed to die by his hand in the spectacular fashion he had planned out.

But he admired their duel for the time being.

It _was_ a beautiful exhibition. A well done _improvisado_ interlude, the artist was happy to admit.

Masters of two variations of the art of ninjutsu, the Spirit Blade clashing with shadow blades, adding their own dissonant and yet elegant song to his opera.

 _A Symphony of Spirit and Shadow_ , he mused.

They were equals in battle, Jhin mused, as the two fought their way into the courtyard of the Grand Temple.

 _One._

Equals in life.

 _Two._

And soon, equals in death.

 _Three._

Time, that fickle and fleeting beast, continued inexorably, and his masterpiece _demanded_ that he act.

 _Four._

* * *

By the time the Master of Shadows had heard the shots, sudden sickening pain had exploded from his right shoulder and both limbs.

He fell shouting in agony on the smoking earth.

He had expected Shen to suffer the same, only to see his one-time brother dashing toward the direction of the shots and into the smoldering ruins of the Grand Temple.

* * *

Shen had blocked the fourth shot just in time, and saw Khada Jhin's masked visage from a window on the temple's second story.

He paid no mind to Zed; he could not kill him. Not like that. Honor prevented him from slaying a helpless opponent.

The same could not be said for the Virtuoso.

He leapt directly into the window where the masked killer was minutes before and caught the sight of his quarry fast retreating.

He chased the masked killer through burning corridors and ruined rooms, dodging or blocking the gunshots and grenades the Golden Demon had thrown at him.

He even managed to avoid a series of lotus traps that would have resulted in his death had he been a second too slow.

Finally, the Eye of the Twilight managed to catch his enemy.

A short but furious fistfight had then ensued, with Khada Jhin actually managing to grab both Shen's arms in an attempt to stop him from wielding his sword.

Prodigiously skilled as the Virtuoso was, he simply wasn't on the same level as Shen in melee combat.

A headbutt from Shen took care of the lock.

Shen wasted no time, knocking away both of the masked killer's guns and then slamming Jhin by the throat on a wall with his left hand and the Spirit Blade held ready in the other.

 _"Enough!"_ Shen snarled, "This is the end. _Your_ end, monster."

Shen had expected the Golden Demon to plead for his life as he did on his first defeat at the hands of Lord Kusho.

Instead the maniac laughed.

Shen motioned for the killing blow only for his right arm to blow apart in a flash of fire and blood.

Soon his left arm also exploded near the elbow.

As Shen recoiled from the loss of both his arms, the Golden Demon thrust a small red lotus on his chest.

It glowed incandescently and Shen shouted as he felt it burn lines of light across his skin in one agonizing split-second.

Then came the sound of spitting blood.

His blood.

As he dropped to his knees in unspeakable pain, Shen saw through his blood tinged eyes that his body bore cuts similar to those they had once found on Syndra's corpse.

The Eye of the Twilight felt a cold metal gauntlet grasp his chin slightly upward.

He saw the cracked and bloodied ivory mask looking down on him with a glittering purple and silver cartridge in his other hand.

"I have been planning _your_ final performance for a _very_ long time..."

* * *

Zed screamed in torment as he bled out, dragging himself across the scorched stones of the courtyard by his one good arm.

He would get through this; pain was nothing new to him.

 _I am the Master of Shadows!_

No matter how small the chance, he vowed that he would survive.

The grievously injured ninja then heard footsteps coming from behind him.

He looked and cursed what he saw in rage.

It was the Golden Demon.

He was bleeding from several wounds, his clothes ripped and singed, and his smiling mask was shattered in places.

But he still carried his weapons, that gun he called Whisper.

Zed knew that Shen was dead.

In the back of his mind, Zed understood that _he_ was doomed as well.

He flipped on his back to behold the visage of his executioner, accepting the futility of his attempts.

But he would not go out in fear, even as the Golden Demon fired a round that sent shards of pain through his remaining good arm.

"Happy now?" the Master of Shadows taunted, all four of his limbs injured and useless.

The masked killer came closer, and went down to one knee inches from Zed's face, "You have no idea."

"Heh. If you think—" he gasped, his throbbing wounds interrupting him.

"Think what? That _you_ could upstage me? An _understudy_ cannot hope to upstage me."

Jhin stuck Whisper's cane attachment at the burnt gunshot wound in Zed's left thigh, eliciting a cry of rage and pain from the ninja.

"Did you all think you could stop _this_? _My magnum opus?_ "

An incoherent roar was Zed's reply.

"I had studied all of you just for _this_ moment. This one, _perfect_ moment _..._ "

He dug the cane deeper into the raw flesh and Zed nearly passed out from the torture.

 _"None_ of you had disappointed me. You all played your parts to _perfection_...and for that I thank you. _All_ of you...the best supporting cast I could have ever asked for."

"I...am no puppet of yours!"

"Oh...but you are, Zed. You are all puppets. _My_ puppets...I _pulled_ the strings, and you all danced to _my_ song. Do not ever think that you've _lost,_ Zed. We are all _winners_ here. Stars the likes of which the world had never known, and will never know again. See how I am gracious, how I am kind. By _my_ genius, all of you have given the world _the_ greatest show."

Zed retorted through gritted teeth, "You...evil!"

"No, Zed. You misunderstand... _beauty can't be evil_. Can't you hear it? My song...my composition...my _opera_...such _beauty_ that has never had been witnessed!"

The Virtuoso then took the cane out of the bleeding wound, "Your lives had no value before me...all of _you._ All of _them_ , these millions of our countrymen...now _immortal_. My work today makes it so."

Explosions near and far added dissonant passages to their little two-man scene.

Zed laughed mirthlessly through the pain, "Then prepare to embrace—your ' _immortality'_ , Jhin—you _will_ die, just like the rest of us."

And then the pale mask laughed.

High and cold and inhuman, it was then that Zed knew fear for the first and _last_ time.

"Still, you don't understand..."

The Golden Demon then aimed Whisper between the Master of Shadows' eyes.

"The end...is important in all things..."


	10. Epilogue

**Author's** **note: I highly recommend listening to the music from the "Mind of the Virtuoso" trailer while reading the closing act. I do believe that the high note of the violin at the end caught the moments here quite perfectly. Kudos to you as well if you managed to catch that last champion cameo**

 **Hope you enjoyed, and reviews are most welcome ^^**

 **-DG**

* * *

 **Epilogue**

By then it was close to dawn.

He breathed deeply and looked into his victim's eyes.

This was _the_ moment.

Click.

And the artist saw magnificent poetry written in the air with Whisper's last shot.

But he did not see the blood.

He did not see the gore nor the brains.

Instead, cherry blossoms and dancing stars emerged as if in slow motion from the reeling, headless corpse.

 _Beautiful! Beautiful! Beautiful!_

This _was_ the end.

He had outdone himself.

His grandest work. His _greatest_ opera.

Complete.

 _It is done._

This was what he was going to be remembered for.

This was what he was going to be _immortalized_ for.

 _I am no longer an artist..._

There was only one task left to do.

 _I...am...art!_

He stepped past Zed's body and onto the smoldering earth, laid Whisper and her cane attachment with a lover's caress.

 _Rest well, my love...your purpose is complete..._

Onward he strode, not feeling the wounds Shen had dealt on him, head up high in pride.

* * *

There was no inferno.

No blaze, no explosions. The Jyom Pass was not exploding in every direction in a fiery cataclysm.

Instead there was fanfare and _applause_.

A deafening standing ovation.

 _"I live for your applause!"_ he cried out.

It was not ashes and soot that poured forth from the ruins of the Grand Temple nor blocked out the rising sun...

Instead, lotus petals, roses and cherry blossoms rained down endlessly from the sky where a pillar of light— _his_ spotlight—descended upon him.

 _I...have risen from the filth and muck..._

The innumerable bloodied and broken corpses that his masterpiece had wrought, he did not see...

Instead there was a crowd of millions all around, including his fellow champions, applauding him.

 _For_ him.

Overcome with emotion, the Virtuoso fell to his knees and spread his hands wide upon reaching the centre of the courtyard.

 _I...am the lotus blossom..._

Tears of purest joy streamed from his eye as he beheld his audience.

The blaze crept ever closer, but there was only the sound of _his_ song.

The fires licked his flesh but there was no pain.

Only loving admirers wanting to touch the skin of their hero.

Finally an admirer came forth from the crowd, wearing a mask in black and white halves, reaching his face for a kiss...

 _I...am beauty..._


End file.
